


Whole Lotta Love

by Dogsled



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Jack being Jack, M/M, Mixtape, Other: See Story Notes, POV Castiel, POV Dean Winchester, Sorry Not Sorry, Speculation, Tags Are Hard, Tags Contain Spoilers, The Author Regrets Everything, With A Twist
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-24
Updated: 2017-10-24
Packaged: 2019-01-22 16:42:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,754
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12486160
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dogsled/pseuds/Dogsled
Summary: Speculative fiction set after 13x02. This takes into account some spoilery material for future episodes as well, and touches on as many things as I would love to happen as I could parse together into a single clear narrative. There will be spoilers for season 13 in the story notes, which will provide a more accurate summary for those interested! Please read them!





	Whole Lotta Love

**Author's Note:**

> You should read Whole Lotta Love if:
> 
> \- You like stories set in the canon, particularly those that take spoilers and speculate with them.  
> \- You like parallels.  
> \- You like Destiel. Especially when there are declarations of love involved.  
> \- You aren’t over S13 speculative stories where the opening dialogue is “Hello Dean”.  
> \- You are Jack “Nougat” Winchester positive.  
> \- You believe Led Zeppelin is Dean’s shorthand for “Let’s do it”.  
> \- You are totally into the idea of an introspective Cas talking to himself in the Empty.  
> \- You don’t flirting with the idea that since Asmodeus is lust and deception he just might shapeshift into something Dean cares about. No promises.  
> \- Princess Bride references are right up your alley.
> 
> and most importantly:  
> \- You don’t mind if the writer is a terrible person.

_Picking up the receiver, he pressed it against his ear._

_“Yeah? Who is this?”_

_“Hello Dean.”_

 

 

\---

 

 

Dean was almost vibrating by the time the Impala pulled into the Gas N Sip parking lot in Newton. His chest felt tight, his hands almost white on the steering wheel in front of him. Even given the minute long phone call he’d had with Cas, most of which had been wasted with Cas explaining that he only had seconds left, it was almost impossible to believe that it was really him. When Dean turned the Impala sharply to the right underneath a glowing Solomon’s Ale sign, the headlights lit up half a mile of tan trench coat. He half expected Cas to turn to look at him, smile, and then explode in blue light as he was stabbed from behind again.

 

But this was no hallucination. Standing under the streetlight with his head tilted curiously to one side, Cas waited for the car to come to a complete stop before taking a step toward it.

 

For all his excitement, his eagerness to get here, driving so fast he’d broken the limit most of the way with Sam screaming at him to slow down, Dean was now paralyzed with fear, stuck in place in the driver’s seat.

 

What if it wasn’t really Cas? What if there was something wrong with him, carried over from his resurrection? What if it was some sort of whack demon shapeshifting trick?

 

It was almost certain that one of those things had to be true, because the idea that Castiel could come back from where he’d gone…it was impossible. That angel, Miriam, had told him so, and so had Billie. People didn’t come back from the Empty. _Not ever_.

 

Certainly not the only person in the world that Dean couldn’t live without, the thing he needed most.

 

No, not Mary.

 

_Love._

 

Unconditional love. Love that shined in blue eyes. Love that was always there when Dean looked at Castiel; Castiel _the angel:_ not Jimmy, not Lucifer, not even Emmanuel. Dean always knew. He had to trust himself that he’d feel it, that he’d know if something was off straight away.

 

Trepidation a runaway train rattling his chest in time with his heartbeats, Dean pulled on the handle, popping the door open and climbing out. That seemed to be the signal for the others to follow, Jack and Sam sharing a look with each other first, making a silent pact to keep their distance until Dean had taken his turn.

 

He didn’t hesitate. It had been so long, and his grief had been so deep, almost impossible to bear, that Dean threw his arms around Castiel without even thinking about it, clutched him tight and pressed his face down into his neck. Dean breathed in the angel’s scent and it was _good_. It was perfect, actually. He smelled like Cas was meant to, like ozone and fresh cut grass, and even if Castiel seemed too stunned by the force of his hug to even hug back Dean didn’t care. It felt good. It felt like he didn’t have to do this on his own any more.

 

Leaning back, he searched Cas’ hooded eyes for the love he knew he’d find there, looked for the man he’d fallen in love with but had never been able to tell.

 

 

\---

 

 

The Empty was the most boring place that Castiel had ever known. It wasn’t the peaceful, relaxing simplicity of Heaven. It wasn’t even full of regret, watching the lives of people he could no longer touch.

 

It was just dark. Timeless. Empty. Like it said on the box, really.

 

That was why Castiel had been so relieved when _something happened_.

 

At first he didn’t even realize that he was staring at himself. It felt instead like he was beginning to fracture as his ability to capture his own reality fell apart. But there he was, a complete copy sitting much as he was sitting, cross legged and surrounded by darkness.

 

Blue eyes stared into his own. He took a breath and the other version of him didn’t, just raised an eyebrow and pursed his lips.

 

“Hello Castiel,” his copy said.

 

Uncertain, Cas scrunched his nose up. “Who are you?”

 

“Isn’t that obvious? I’m you.”

 

Cas looked the creature in front of him over. He was sceptical. He could see it’s grace, wings resplendent and whole. His own hadn’t been that way for a long time.

 

“I’m what you would have been if you hadn’t fallen in love with Dean Winchester.”

 

Cas faltered. Was that true? He looked so beautiful; his grace and his wings intact, feathers wide and strong, the span of them greater than Castiel ever remembered them being. For a moment he felt a flare of jealousy, but it was muted quickly. His expression softened, and then he smiled.

 

“But I did fall in love with Dean Winchester,” he said, stating the words clearly. There was no fear of them now, no fear of repercussions. He was alone in the Empty talking to himself.

 

The expression his double wore was stony, but Castiel could feel his disappointment.

 

“Forget what you’ve done to yourself. Look at what you’ve done to the world because of that choice, Castiel: the angels who died because you gave them free will; because of the fall; Metatron; the Darkness?”

 

“I have heard all these charges before. I know what I’ve done, and I’ve paid for it.”

 

“Because you’re dead? You think that’s punishment enough?”

 

“No.”

 

The creature who was not Castiel tilted his head at him. “What then?”

 

“Being here, unable to help Dean when he is suffering, unable to raise the child I promised to protect—that is far greater a punishment than anything I would have chosen for myself.”

 

“You’re not an angel. You talk about them like you love them, but you don’t even really know what love is.”

 

“ _You_ don’t,” Castiel answered, coldly. “But I have spent more time on Earth than any angel has in millennia - any angel but Gabriel – and I was forced to teach myself, name for myself the emotions that I was feeling, all the while being told that nothing I felt was real, or right; that it made me less of an angel. I am how God made me. I feel because God wished me to feel, and _I love_. I have _always_ been capable of love.”

 

 

\---

 

 

“Wait. Dean, are you sure it’s Cas? Shouldn’t I get the holy water or something? What if it’s Asmodeus again?”

 

“Asmodeus?” Castiel asked, frowning at them. “You’ve seen him?”

 

Dean couldn’t tear his eyes away from Cas. It felt surreal, and he was terrified that if he looked away even for a moment Cas would just disappear, flitter away like dust in the wind, leaving him alone with his guilt and grief all over again.

 

“ _Dean_ ,” Sam pressed.

 

“It’s Cas, Sam. It’s really him. Don’t ask me how I know, okay? I just _know._ ”

 

“And I’d love to believe that, Dean, but we can’t just go around relying on your boyfriend radar.”

 

Dean didn’t miss a beat. “I know when Cas is Cas, okay. I _know_. But if you want to test him then go ahead, be my guest.”

 

Sam backed down, though he looked resentful about it. Dean figured his brother would find some other way of testing Cas to make sure he was who he said he was, but he didn’t care. He knew. He knew because love shone back at him out of those eyes.

 

 

\---

 

 

_“Hello Dean.”_

_Silence._

_“Dean?”_

_“Who the fuck is this? What kind of sick joke do you think you’re playing?”_

_“It’s me.”_

_“Like hell it is.”_

_“Dean. We don’t have much time.”_

_“Is it really you?”_

_“I… No, I understand. You want me to prove who I am? As you wish.”_

_Silence again, this time stunned._

_“Cas, did you just Princess Bride me?”_

_“There’s a beep, I think it means I’m almost out of minutes.”_

_“…Cas? Seriously, did you just say you…”_

_“I’m outside a Gas ‘n’ Sip on the Interstate between Hokum and_ _Newton_ _. This is the only money that I could find, Dean, please—“_

_The phone cut off. No matter how hard Dean tried to call back, the automatic voice on the other end insisted that the number wasn’t listed._

_Dean grabbed his keys and called for Sam. He wasn’t planning on waiting up._

 

 

\---

 

 

Jack practically resonated happiness all the way home. For all that he’d been bonding with Sam – and to a lesser extent Dean – the way he lit up in Castiel’s presence was a joy to behold. Jack seemed alive, more like a human being than Dean had ever seen him. The slow, thoughtful approach to his reality that had been gradually dissolving as Jack was carefully exposed to television (and thank God his first view of the world hadn’t actually been Scooby Doo, considering what simple minds and great powers could do when inspired by children’s entertainment) seemed to fall away completely within five minutes of conversation with Castiel.

 

All of the imprinting that he’d tried to do with Dean and Sam came naturally with Cas. They were already so similar that it was uncanny – hadn’t Dean been making peanut butter and jelly sandwiches for the eighteenth time when his phone rang? – but it was almost as if seeing Castiel in the flesh was enough to help Jack unlock how to function as angel and human at the same time.

 

So excited that his words ran into each other, Jack told Castiel all about what he’d experienced so far, everything from the woman who had blared her horn at him on the road to Pirate Pete’s to what had happened when Dean and Sam had taken him on his first hunt. At various points in the story Dean caught Cas glowering at him in the rear view mirror, and when Dean tired of being the bad guy of the story he blew Cas a kiss, and that put an end to the glaring once and for all.

 

It was a four hour drive back to the bunker. Most of the way Jack rattled on without even stopping to take a breath, and Dean’s unspoken question “how did you get out?” hung between them like a ghost. From beside him, riding shotgun, Sam kept glancing Dean’s way, his brow wrinkled in concern. Though he laughed along at the parts of the story that Jack found most entertaining, the worry never really left Sam’s face. Just like Dean, he was waiting for the other shoe to drop.

 

 

\---

 

 

When Dean was tired of listening to Jack rattle on about all the different candy he’d tried since being born, Dean put Cas’s mix tape into the Impala’s tape deck.

 

It was hard to take his eyes off the rear view mirror after that.

 

Particularly when Cas met his gaze and nodded.

 

_When the stars fall to the sea there will still be you and me._

 

It was halfway through the eighth track that Sam intervened. He’d never looked more awkward in his life than when he pulled out the tape halfway through “Whole Lotta Love”, muttering something about not wanting to watch them have any more eye sex while Plant crooned “ _I wanna be your backdoor man._ ”

 

 

\---

 

 

“Do you ever stop?”

 

“I thought you could do with the company.”

 

“I don’t need you to remind me of what you perceive to be my failure.”

 

“What _I_ perceive? I’m you.”

 

“You’re not me. You’re not anything I ever was, nor anything I will be again.”

 

“I’m here because you needed to look at yourself, Castiel. I’m here because you need to resolve what you are with what you were. I’m here because you have a choice.”

 

“I don’t. The dead don’t make choices.”

 

“But you’re not really dead. This isn’t death, Castiel. This is the Empty—the Emptiness inside yourself. The Emptiness that you let in when you decided that your only worth to anyone was in the sacrifice you could make.”

 

Castiel had no answer for that. The creature – the thing that was not him – was right. He had bled for the Winchesters for years now. He didn’t know anything else, yet to forgive himself for any choice that he had made since he had claimed to follow the path of free will, rejecting Chuck’s telling of the Winchester Gospel. He could still feel the warmth of God’s hand on his shoulder even now. It radiated inward, but did nothing to make the choices feel any better.

 

It was hard to imagine that he had achieved anything of any worth. So far as he could see he had destroyed Heaven, almost destroyed the Earth, been directly responsible for the death of the man that had loved Sam and Dean as his own sons, and released Lucifer on the world to do yet more evil.

 

He was worthless. Without even his powers, without his wings, what good was he? He couldn’t make the world better. He couldn’t even kill Lucifer. Oh, he’d sunk a blade into his chest; he’d seen his grace burn, watched his body fall—it had never occurred to him that the appearance of death had been just another trick.

 

Without his powers he couldn’t be the Castiel that Dean Winchester needed. His value was in the few minutes it gained the Winchesters to make it to safety. That was all a warrior knew. The greater battle was always far more important than one life. This Angel of the Lord had rejected God and followed one man into battle instead. He’d done it because he loved him, and because letting Dean Winchester die when there was breath left in him to fight wasn’t something he was programmed to do.

 

But without his power he was worthless. Helpless. _Useless_. He should have been able to do more, but it had been whittled away until there was nothing left, his angelhood stripped from him.

 

Fingers curled against his cheek, and Castiel looked up at his own face past the blur of his own hot tears.

 

“You gave the world free will. You can choose, Castiel, and _you chose_ to throw your life away. But you’re _not_ worthless. What if you could make another choice? What if you could choose to go back?”

 

“ _What?_ ”

 

 

\---

 

 

It seemed to take forever to get him alone. Jack just wouldn’t shut up, even when he had a mouthful of hamburger. Castiel, of course, didn’t eat, but there was more to it than that.

 

“If you came back with all your powers, then why did you call us to come get you? You could have just zapped yourself here.”

 

Dean knew Cas’ bitch face when he saw it. “If I’d known, I would have saved you the journey.”

 

“Eight hours, Cas. Four hours either way. We’d only just put Junior down for a nap. Now look at him.”

 

Jack still looked like he was charged up with enough Duracell bunny energy to keep the whole of Kansas lit up for the next century. He flashed a big grin at Dean when attention came his way, managing somehow to keep most of his mouthful _inside_ this time.

 

Beside him, Sam grinned. Despite his suspicions, he’d come around to the possibility that Cas really was back, and there was nothing better for Jack than to be reunited with his adopted father. All the crazy stuff from the last few weeks had been forgiven and forgotten.

 

“Well you’re reading him his bedtime story,” Dean insisted. “We started the Lord of the Rings. Jack really likes Gandalf.”

 

“He makes fireworks.”

 

“Yeah. He really likes fireworks, too. Burned through half our monthly luxury budget on Roman Candles already.”

 

“You shouldn’t have had to… I will find a way to pay you back, Dean.”

 

“Don’t be stupid, Cas. …No, I mean--I mean _we_ were looking after him. We want to spoil him then we oughta be the ones footing the bill. Besides, raising a kid is expensive, Cas, and you’re more broke than we are.”

 

Castiel stood.

 

“Where you going?”

 

“Your beer’s empty. I thought I’d go and get you some more.”

 

“Sounds like a great idea. I’ll come with you.”

 

Finally. This was his chance. He brushed the crumbs from his lap – which made Sam stink-eye him – and clambered to his feet, hurrying to catch up with Cas, his heart racing faster.

 

“Cas—“

 

“Dean,” Castiel mimicked without missing a beat.

 

“You want to explain what you said on the phone?”

 

“What did I say?”

 

Straightening from behind the counter, Cas set a cold six pack of Kingdom beer in front of Dean, peering up at him curiously.

 

“The… The Princess Bride thing, Cas. You “ _as you wish_ ”ed me.”

 

Cas held his gaze until Dean started to feel it itching underneath his skin, and then, finally, dropped his attention back to the beer on the counter. He spoke to the six pack instead.

 

“That’s right.”

 

“Pardon?”

 

“It means exactly what you think it means, Dean.”

 

Dean blinked. “ _What_?”

 

“How would you like me to say it? I love you. I _love you,_ Dean. I’m only here at all because I love you; and because it was your love for me that guided me to freedom.”

 

“ _My_ love?”

 

“Didn’t you _know_ , Dean? You love me too.”

 

 

\---

 

 

“You keep saying that I have a choice.”

 

“I told you. The only person keeping you in the Empty is you, Castiel. You chose this.”

 

“But I don’t understand.”

 

“Because you still think you only had one purpose. What if there was more to it than that? What if you could end the suffering another way?”

 

Castiel shook his head bitterly. He had sat in this prison of his own making and looked long and hard at himself, seen all that his Emptiness was, but he still didn’t know how he was supposed to choose to be anything but what he was; how he could ever choose to leave.

 

The angel spread his beautiful wings. Castiel shivered, bowing his head away from the sight, stunned by the brightness of grace in the persistent darkness of the Empty.

 

“You think this is why they wanted you? What else could anyone ever _need_ from you except for your powers?”

 

Unbidden an image of Dean came to mind, on his knees before Castiel, his eyes turned up, begging and desperate. “ _I need you.”_

 

Dean. Dean was the one who needed his powers more than anyone. Dean was the one who was always injured. Dean was the one who needed his strength, who would have killed his brother if not for Crowley’s intervention, saving Castiel when he was almost dead from lack of grace. Dean was the one who needed him to _be an angel_.

 

_I need you._

 

 _Him_. Dean needed _him_.

 

When Castiel stopped staring at the inside of his eyelids, trying desperately to capture the image of Dean in his mind’s eye, he was stunned to see that a single bright white light was illuminating a portion of the darkness. It was so bright that it hurt his eyes, but Castiel didn’t dare to look away from it. If he did it would disappear. Where the light fell on him it fractured into a rainbow of colors. He could feel its warmth, too; a warmth that felt like Dean.

 

“What is this?”

 

“Your Emptiness. It doesn’t seem so Empty any more, does it?”

 

It was true. It felt as though he was being embraced. It felt safe and warm. It felt like love.

 

 

\---

 

 

Dean pulled at the lapels of Cas’ shirt, dragging him back in uncoordinated steps until there was enough room to slam the bedroom door closed. The moment they were alone he pushed himself into the angel’s space, crushing their lips together as Cas palmed at his cheek, clawing him closer in turn.

 

“Say it again,” Dean begged as he pulled at Cas’ tie, making a mess of the Windsor knot as he tried to untangle it. He pressed his mouth to Cas’ Adam’s apple, scraping his teeth against the grain of his stubble.

 

“I love you.”

 

“Again.”

 

“D-Dean… This isn’t necessary.”

 

“It’s necessary. Trust me. Trust me, Cas. I need to… I thought I’d lost you. _Please._ ”

 

“I love you,” Cas said again, patient as Dean finally got his tie free, yanking it away and dropping it without a second thought. His hands raced back to Cas’ chest, pawing at the buttons of his shirt to undo them.

 

“Dean?”

 

Startled, Dean looked up, only to get the full beam of those blue eyes down at him, intense as they had been when Castiel was laid out dying in that barn.

 

“ _I love you too,_ ” he said. It startled both of them, but he didn’t regret saying it, especially when Castiel pulled him up for another kiss. When they came up for air again, Dean was on his back on the bed, wriggling helplessly to try and escape his own tangled plaid, and getting absolutely no help from Cas.

 

Castiel laughed at him, and Dean felt such joy that he found himself laughing too, his predicament forgotten, and any shame he had with it.

 

This was freedom; freedom to be who he was, to feel like himself. His love had set him free, and somehow it seemed like the world was righting again, that there could be hope; a future; maybe even paradise.

 

 

\---

 

 

“It isn’t enough to love and be loved.”

 

Castiel had been basking in the light for what felt like forever. Dean loved him, and he understood it now. He could feel it against his skin, inside his very being. But the other version of him was right. It wasn’t enough. There was still so much darkness, and even if Dean’s warmth reached him now he couldn’t allow himself to depend on one man to love him. It was romantic, yes, but it wasn’t _right_ , and it wouldn’t be fair to Dean. He didn’t want to be a burden; that was why he was here in the first place.

 

“What else?” he demanded.

 

“I’m not here to give you all the answers.”

 

 Castiel wrapped his arms around his knees. It was so close now. He could feel it. If only he could unearth the answer that his angelic mirror was driving at…

 

All he had wanted since discovering his love for Dean was to be loved back. He’d thought that it meant being _told_ , but in his own way Dean had done that years ago; Castiel simply hadn’t been equipped to understand. Understanding Dean was impossible when Cas still struggled so hard to grip what _he_ was feeling at any given moment. Perhaps it would have been easier if he had been born human, if he’d grown with emotions all around him and formed his entire perspective of the world around the shape of those feelings in his heart.

 

But he had always been an angel first. Everything that he had learned to feel, he had learned from Sam and Dean, and they were hardly ideal teachers. Their brotherly compassion was undeniable, but the only romantic love that Cas had ever tried to understand and embrace was the love Dean had for Lisa, and that had come with a cold, steely pang that in retrospect Castiel knew was jealousy.

 

Perhaps it had been the mix tape that had helped him put names to those emotions. He had only been able to connect his feelings to _that word_ when the singer that Dean worshipped had made them clear. The world made more sense now, thirteen Led Zeppelin tracks later, than it ever had before.

 

But Zeppelin hadn’t just sung about love. There was more to life than sex. There was the open road, there was fantasy and adventure, places yet to visit together, things yet to know. Some of them were crude and blatant, but mostly they were love songs to humanity, written about the freedom of being able to experience it all. In those songs, it seemed, life burned that much brighter _only because_ one day it would end.

 

“I know what I want,” he said.

 

When Castiel opened his eyes, his angelic double was staring right back at him, lit by a thousand of those warm white lights. The mirror smiled, and his lips turned wine red, skin warming to liquid honey, eyes a warm mahogany.

 

“You.”

 

“Me.”

 

Billie smiled, climbing to her feet and moving toward him. Castiel didn’t move. There was nothing she could do to him here: he was already dead.

 

“You Winchesters. All this noble self sacrifice. One after another—“

 

Billie’s voice deepened as she urged Cas up to his feet, and when he glanced toward her he was surprised to see someone else standing in her place, his lank hair hanging loose about his gaunt face, his eyes hollowed; _Death_.

 

“—because you feel like there’s nothing else to live for. It has to stop, don’t you think?”

 

Castiel felt almost nauseous. Had this been a test? Had it always been that way, ever since Dean had driven Death’s scythe into his chest in an attempt to end him? Billie had only appeared after that, and she had always been there to catch them when an invitation to the Emptiness was on the cards; when Sam and Dean had been prepared to end their lives for each other. She had been there to reap Mary, and when Lucifer had driven the blade into his back.

 

Yes. He remembered her even then, waiting to bring him here.

 

“Are you ready to go back?”

 

“Why?”

 

“Because it’s my hope that if just one of you learns your lesson, you can teach it to the rest of your dunderhead family,” Death groused. “This sad, doomed little world? It needs you. It needs every last Winchester it can get.”

 

 

\---

 

 

_Castiel stepped away from the phone booth. It was lucky he’d found the quarter when he did. The idea of walking on to another town filled him with despair. He had chosen this, chosen humanity, chosen powerlessness. It didn’t matter. He wanted to love Dean, and the thought of giving that feeling up…_

_Besides, he had so much more to live for, so much more to be. He was needed, yes, but not for his wings, and not for his abilities. He was needed because he loved Dean, and because Dean loved him._

_Smiling into the collar of his shirt, he stepped away from the phone booth, almost colliding with the white suited man who had come out of nowhere._

_“Pardon. I’m sorry, I didn’t see you standing there.”_

_The man’s eyes flashed to gleaming gold, then faded into a mirror of Castiel’s blue. He wore Castiel’s clothes, spoke in Castiel’s voice, even tilted his head to one side, but the smile was no smile that Cas recognized._

_“Hello Castiel. It’s good to finally meet you. I’ve heard so much.”_

_Panic gripped him instantly. This was no mere demon, his conjuring tricks far greater than Castiel had ever seen. He didn’t need to be an angel to see that this sulphur eyed demon was powerful, that he was dangerous, and that this latest clever trick could be the undoing of them all._

_Gabriel. Gabriel had known this magic too, and this demon had learned it from the same vile creature._

_“Asmodeus.“_

_“ The angels – what’s left of them? - Oh, they’ve been very helpful.” The demon’s lying smile spread into an impossible grin, and Cas felt his hope sink, though his human heart was racing faster and faster in his chest._

_“Don’t worry,” Asmodeus said. “I’ll take good care of Dean for you while you’re making the most of Hell’s hospitality. A soul as bright and shiny new as yours… Well, we can’t have that just walking around out here, can we?”_

_“He’ll know what you are the moment he lays eyes on you,” Castiel hissed, furious._

_“Oh, will he now? The way I see it, he’ll be more distracted by these.” Asmodeus blazed with grace, spreading great shadowy wings across the highway. “Lucifer’s son needs a real angel to show him the way, Castiel. And you’re anything but an angel any more.”_

_“No more than you.”_

_“What can I say? One thing’s for sure is I look good in a suit. Now…we’ve got an hour or two before the opening act. If I’m going to be your understudy then we need to get to know each other better, hm?”_


End file.
